Page 3 of A Troll in the Hay
According to the magazine article, even before Harmony Glen gained notice for welcoming all species with open arms, it had a reputation as a charming summer tourist destination. Nestled at the bottom of one of the Finger Lakes, it has lots of quaint shops and restaurants, a variety of water activities at the lake, and a breathtakingly beautiful and expansive conservation area on the outskirts of town.
Those last two things are still on my to-do list. The downtown is so cute, bustling with humans and monsters living and working in unison… it’s perfect. I’ve always loved being surrounded by people, and being immersed in this community, even as a tourist, is like being plugged in to the best kind of energy. That’s where I’d be again right now if the owner of the cabins where I’m staying hadn’t convinced me to come out to the farm market.
Glen, the owner of the alcove of small rental cabins along the river, was tending the already immaculate grounds when I stepped out of my cabin. He’s a tree-man with what looks like woody bark for skin and green vines and leaves for hair. I’ll admit to being a little unnerved when I first met him. He’s one of many monsters I didn’t know existed until I got here. Like everyone else in town, he’s been nothing but welcoming and friendly. And adamant that I change my plans for more downtown shopping and head for the farm market instead.Today. It had to be today.
When I overhear the family with the energetic children and wagon of freshly picked produce talking to Ogram about how nice it is to find him working in the store for a change, I understand Glen’s insistence that I alter my plans.
In our few brief chats, I’ve told Glen how excited I am to experience a fully integrated community, and my hopes of meeting as many nonhuman species as possible while I’m here. So, it’s kind of odd that Glen didn’t come out and tell me this might be my only chance to meet a troll, but that doesn’t matter, I’m just glad I did. And not so I can add “troll” to a list. Because I met Ogram.
The moment I stepped into this building and our eyes met, something happened. To me anyway, though I swear I felt vibes coming from him during our conversation. Everything about Ogram hits the right notes. He’s beyond tall. Broad. Thick. With eyes that twinkle likedark gemstones. Massive hands that could crush me, yet I know, somehow, would be gentle if he touched me. Then there’s his mouth.
I want to look at all of him, but my attention keeps drifting to his mouth, my imagination running wild as I picture what it would be like to kiss him. Would his tusks be rough or smooth against my cheeks? Are they sensitive? Would he like it if I touched them? Kissed them? Ran my tongue up and down them? If it turned him on, then what? He’s humanlike in many ways—arms, legs, hands, a face with eyes, nose and mouth. Does the similarity continue between his legs? And if he does have a cock, isitlarger than human size, too?
Heat winds its way through me at the thought of exploring his massive green body. Of having him explore mine. I shift on my feet, squeezing my thighs together and subtly swaying my hips in an attempt to get some pressure on my clit, though that might only make things worse since I’m basically edging myself. To make matters worse, the motion causes my sundress to graze my braless nipples, the combination of sensations requiring I bite my lip to suppress the sexually frustrated groan building in the back of my throat.
In a blink, Ogram’s attention swings from the customers at the counter to me. Eyes locked with mine, his chest expands and his nostrils flare.
Fire licks at my cheeks, and I turn away, focusing on a table full of potatoes in various sizes of baskets as if they’re the most interesting thing in the world.
Even after the family has said their goodbyes andexited the store, Ogram still doesn’t come over or speak to me from behind the counter. He doesn’t even clear his throat. The only sounds in the small space come from outside—muted, fading voices, the crunch of tires on gravel, then birdsong and the hum of cicadas, carried inside on a gentle summer afternoon’s breeze. But I know he’s still there. I feel his eyes on me.
At some point, I have to turn around. Face him. What’s my excuse for staring at him going to be this time? The truth is a bit much to lay on a total stranger, especially one from a species I know nothing about. But lying, pretending I’m not wildly attracted to him, feels wrong. Plus, I’m really not wired for anything other than straightforward telling it like it is. A character flaw, according to pretty much everyone back home.
His deep voiced, “If you thought of any questions, or still want my help …” slides into my ears as I’m turning toward him.
“I did and I do.”
Large hands planted on the wooden countertop in front of him, he gives a single nod. “Then I’m glad to be at your service.”
Would he say that if he knew all the ways I’ve imagined himservicingme since laying eyes on him? It’s not like I have a monster fetish. I came here for the experience of meeting as many nonhumans as possible and seeing what it’s like to be part of a friendly, multispecies community, so I could go back home and tell all the assholes there to stop vilifying nonhumans. At no point did I eventhinkabout getting involved with someone onthis vacation trip. Fucking a monster isn’t some freaky bucket-list item I want to check off.
But I do want to fuckhim.
I think.
I’m pretty sure.
Like, ninety-nine percent.
Okay, I’m lying. There is no remaining one percent.
“You said I could ask if I have questions about trolls,” I say, moving toward him. “Can it be a personal question?”
His posture stiffens and his mouth becomes a straight line, as much as that’s possible with two big tusk teeth protruding from the lower side. His thick russet eyebrows lower over dark eyes that never leave my face. “I…” One hand goes to the back of his neck, rubbing it as if he’s trying to unscrew his head. Rosy red blooms across the upper portion of his cheeks, like apples ripening right before my eyes. He has to be at least seven feet tall and wider than a linebacker with pads on, yet he’s adorable.
Normally, I’d draw out his agony in the name of flirting. But all I know about trolls is that I want to know more about this one. Right now, simple and direct is probably the safe route. “I wondered if you’re romantically involved with anyone, and if you’re not, if you’d like to meet me later. Yesterday, I walked past a pub that looked like a fun place, and the sign out front said there’s live music on weekends, and tonight it’s a spider man. Not like the comic book superhero. A spider who’s a man. But you probably already knew that. Or know him.”
“I did and I do. You’re talking about The Corner Bar.”
“That’s the one.” Smiling, I wait for him to continue. Surely if he were going to decline, he wouldn’t have bothered to confirm the location. But instead of answering my key questions, he just stands there looking…pained. Leaving me to do the letting-off-the-hook thing. “Sorry if I put you in an awkward spot with my invitation. Even if you’re not attached to someone else, you can say no to me.”
“I would prefer not to say no to you.”
“There’s a silent ‘but’ at the end of that sentence, I think.”
A heavy sigh leaves his mouth, the kind that would make any normal-sized person’s shoulders sag. “But I am not at my best in a crowd, and The Corner Bar will be especially busy because of the live music.”
“Of course,” I say, heaving a sigh of my own. “Not five minutes ago you told me you prefer to avoid public and social events, so what do I do? Invite you to a bar. Duh. If you didn’t think I was oblivious before, I’m sure you must now.”